Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(16)

This all happened because of me. Every single bit of it.

Guilt threatens to drag me under. If something happens to Jericho before he gets to the airport, I will never be able to forgive myself. Tears burn my eyes, and all I want to do is get to him.

I fidget in my seat, staring out the window, barely answering my father’s questions. As we get closer, runway lights glow in the sky, and my hand is poised over the latch on my seat belt.

Lev, who I’ve learned is Kostya’s bald counterpart, badges us through the gate and parks inside one of the hangars. Goliath opens the door of the SUV, and as soon as he is out of my way, I hit the ground running.

I’ve only taken two steps toward the jet before Goliath reaches out to grab my wrist. “That isn’t Forge’s plane.”

I whip my head around to face my father as the other doors of the SUV slam shut.

“I said I’d bring you to the airport, not that I’d let you leave with him.”

With my teeth bared, I stride toward him. “If you ever want to see me again, you won’t stand in my way right now. You will never stand in my way when it comes to my family. Do you understand me?”

A slash of pain shoots across the old man’s proud face before he can disguise it. “The Federov blood runs hot in your veins, just like mine. Do not shut me out of your life for wanting to keep you safe.”

“I’m safe with Jericho.” My tone leaves no room for argument.

My father opens his mouth to reply, but both Lev and Kostya raise their weapons and train them on the form of a man who steps into the shadows of the hangar.

It doesn’t matter that I can’t see him. I know exactly who it is.

“No! Put them down! If you shoot him, I’ll gut you myself.” The bloodthirsty threat comes from God only knows where, but one thing is certain—I hate having guns pointed at my husband.

Goliath takes a step forward, and I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but Federov says something in Russian. Both men lower their weapons partially as the man walks toward us, finally stepping into the light from the beams of the SUV’s headlights.

Jericho. His face is dirty and blood streaked, but it’s the most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen. He’s alive.

I break into a sprint, racing toward the man I feared I’d never see again.

We collide in a crush of limbs, and his arms wrap around me so tightly that my lungs threaten to burst, but I don’t care. I press my face to his chest and breathe in his scent. He’s solid and real and alive.

“Thank God,” I whisper.

“I’m so fucking happy to see you.” His hands rise to my head, burying in my messy hair, and he pulls me back to stare into my eyes. “I thought . . .” His voice breaks off, and I shake my head.

“I’m fine. Totally fine. Other than a few years scared off my life.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. This never should’ve—”

Before he can apologize more, I press my lips carefully against his bloodied ones to silence him. “I missed you,” I whisper against his skin as I pull back a fraction.

Behind me, someone clears his throat, and I have the sudden urge to punch that person in the face. No one gets to interrupt this moment. No one.

But my father didn’t get the memo.

“Forge, you have information or no?”

Instead of letting me go, Jericho pulls me against his body and wraps me tightly in his arms again before responding. His touch slows my racing heartbeat, and the tension I’ve been carrying melts away one drop at a time.

Finally, he replies. “I have information.”

“Are you going to share it?”

“Should I?”

I can almost picture my father bristling at the question. I haven’t known him more than a couple of hours, but it didn’t even take ten minutes to realize the proud Russian’s orders are always followed. Except, perhaps, by me. And apparently, Forge.

Before Federov can reply, a jet stops on the tarmac beyond the hangar, and wind whips my hair in every direction.

“Our ride’s here, Ace,” Jericho whispers in my ear. “Get on board with Goliath, and I’ll be right behind you. There are a few things I’d like to say to your father.”

I pull back and meet his turbulent gray gaze. “Shouldn’t I be part of the discussion?”

Jericho tucks my wild hair behind one ear and leans forward to whisper. “There are a few things I need to know, but he may not answer in front of you. I promise I’ll fill you in on everything as soon as we’re airborne.” He presses another kiss to my brow before he raises his head. “Trust me.”

“Okay.” When he releases me from his arms, I spin around to face my father. His features are set in stone as I walk toward him and hold out a hand. “Thank you for your help.”

He clasps it between his two massive ones. “You’re my daughter. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you . . . but I would prefer you come with me. Spend time with me. I would like to know you, Illyana.”

“My name is Indy,” I tell him. “And I want to go home. Everything else . . . we can talk about later.”

He straightens, opening his mouth like he wants to argue, but then shuts it again. “If that is what you want, and Forge can assure me of your safety . . . then so be it.”